


Please Say Yes

by RemixtheBox



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Awkward Will, Best Friends Beverly and Will, Fluff, Grumpy Will is Grumpy, Hannibal Works at a bowling Alley, M/M, Mysterious Hannibal, Podfic Welcome, Will Doesn't Like Dating, alternative universe, because reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 01:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10451814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemixtheBox/pseuds/RemixtheBox
Summary: I looked up at the cashier only to be taken aback by the sight Hannibal Lecter. Hannibal was in a few of my lectures, and while he didn’t talk much, it was always insightful and beautiful when he did. Originally from Denmark, his accent and mannerisms made him a bit of an outcast. The only person I’ve ever seen him willingly talk to being Alana Bloom, the beautiful psychology student I had an affinity for my Freshman year. Although I’ve never had a real conversation with him before, it was common knowledge that he was loaded, his family being a long line of counts. So why was someone who wore designer suits more expensive than my apartment to undergraduate school working as a cashier at a run-down bowling alley?~Or, Where Beverly is manipulative, Will just wants to go home, and Hannibal just wants to put his lips on Will's lips.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Long Time no see! Please enjoy this Hannigram fic that I originally wrote for a writing class (Note: If Hannibal is ever called Henry in the story, Please tell me.) This one was actually Beta read, so that is really cool, but nobody's perfect. If there is a mistake, feel free to tell me.
> 
> ~Remix

Sometimes I am forced to sit back evaluate my life and the choices I have made. During this evaluation, it comes to my attention that every bad decision, silly risk, or idiotic mistake that I have the ability to remember all stem from one common catalyst. This parasitic virus of bad influence and extroverted optimism takes it’s form in a small Asian woman with a will of diamond and an innocent persona strong enough to make convince saints that they are the sinners. I then must stew in resentment until I eventually forgive her and begin the cycle once again.

In my experience with Beverly Katz, there is one thought I am forced recognize every time I am thrust into another shenanigan yet again: The next time I say ‘yes,’ I am actually going to listen to the question. Next time never comes, as the minx always asks while I’m distracted, tired, or willing to agree with anything as long as she stops talking.

This time around, I just happened to be writing a paper on blood splatter patterns for my forensic criminology class. She had been trying to distract me the entire time, as she is actually a good student and finished her paper a week ago instead of waiting until the day before as I did regularly. There was so much caffeine in my body I was shaking and by this time I was honestly considering stabbing her in the throat with my pencil and using the blood splatter from that as a reference. When she asked the question, I snapped an irritated ‘yes’ at her and I was finally left blissful peace.  
If I had known that going on a double date with her was the punishment for such a mistake, I would have suffered through any and all ramblings about Pretty Little Liars.

Now, I was being forced to sit and listen to this dull girl talk about her dull life with her dull voice while Beverly cruelly abandoned me to play air hockey with her date. It was getting more difficult to feign interest in what I was being told. If had to hear one more story about King Mittens of the Kingdom of Cat Scratch, I was certain that my obituary would be found in tomorrow’s paper. 

“-and then King Mittens brought me a dead rabbit. Isn’t that just the sweetest thing?” M- Ma- Maria? Maddison? Maddelynn? Ma enthusiastically regaled the tale. I could feel my patience and soul shrivel up dead in my chest. There was only so much of this a person could take, and I felt that I had nobly exceeded this limit in the name of Beverly’s happiness. This would definitely be the last time I agreed to anything she asks. 

“I’m going to go order more fries,” I blurted out. I was standing and briskly stepping away to prevent her upcoming offer of joining me. A weight was lifted off my chest and I could finally breath again. Not that it was a complete blessing, given that the bowling alley itself smelt like sweat, grease, and shoe polish. 

The Bowling Alley that Bev had chosen for this god forsaken night was bustling with college kids looking for cheap fun on a Saturday night. They were sloshing pitchers of soda onto the floor and touching everything in sight with pizza greased and cheese covered fingers. I avoided contact as much as possible, because to be honest, what my peers found fun was the exact opposite of what I did: Nights spent in bed complaining about the unrealistic imagery in crime TV shows and animatedly raging about murder.

The food station had a line, which in this rare case I was grateful for, as it was more time away from Ma. An obvious downside being that I was trapped between “Mr. Dude-Bro frat guy” and “Breakfast at Tiffany’s Barbie.” They were talking to each other as if I wasn’t between them, causing minor jostles and smacks to my person. Guilt settled in my stomach; even the latest exploits of King Mittens sounded more appealing than the latest who-cheated-on-who gossip.

By the time I had made it too the front I was seconds away from high-tailing it out of there, especially when I was asked to check the girls’ butt for any stains from the seats because apparently “Bradley’s” judgement was “untrustworthy.” I looked up at the cashier only to be taken aback by the sight Hannibal Lecter. Hannibal was in a few of my lectures, and while he didn’t talk much, it was always insightful and beautiful when he did. Originally from Denmark, his accent and mannerisms made him a bit of an outcast. The only person I’ve ever seen him willingly talk to being Alana Bloom, the beautiful psychology student I had an affinity for my Freshman year. Although I’ve never had a real conversation with him before, it was common knowledge that he was loaded, his family being a long line of counts. So why was someone who wore designer suits more expensive than my apartment to undergraduate school working as a cashier at a run-down bowling alley?

“William,” Hannibal said with shadow of a smile, “What can I get for you?” 

The fact that he knew my name was peculiar; I was not known around campus as anything nor was I in any major organizations. I let it slide though in an effort not to anger those in line behind me. His expression wasn’t as guarded as it was traditionally with others, yet I could not be sure if the sentiment was a lie as I adamantly refused to encourage any real eye contact. My former therapist had murmured something about it being a side effect of my autism, although I never truly agreed with that psychoanalysis. 

I realized that I had been staring at his chin much too long to be appropriate and I awkwardly cleared my throat, “Um, hi. Some fries? Salt and Vinegar, please?” Concentrated and distasteful breath would deter Ma from wanting a kiss after the date. 

“On a date?” His face scrunched, his brow furrowing with an incredulous look.

“Yes on a da- wait. How did you know I was on a date?” I was shocked and my stomach rolled with unease, instincts whirling a small red alarm in my head. With how packed the bowling alley was, there was no way he could have casually noticed this, especially since we are not friends or close enough to be familiar with each others’ faces or preferences. My guard went up, the walls I’ve built cinching tighter while logic screamed that I was overreacting to the situation. 

All I was given was a mysterious smile, “Will that be all William?”

I frowned and finally gathered the courage to meet his eyes, if only to gain more information on this strange man. He was amused, that was certain, and yet it was more of a… fond amusement rather than a patronizing one. Perhaps Alana had told him about me. I wouldn’t put it past her. Although she and Bev did not get along after Alana broke my heart the end of freshman year, they still conspired to make more people want to try and befriend me behind my back. Was Hannibal’s knowledge and companionable demeanor the fruit of their endeavors? My proverbial hackles dropped and I began to relax. Yes, definitely. I wasn’t interesting enough to notice by any other explanation. 

“You have heterochromia. I did not know that,” Hannibal cocked his head, his smile growing and revealing the smallest bit of teeth. My face suddenly got hot and I mentally scolded myself. It was just an observation, stop being weird Will.

“As… cute as you two are being,” Breakfast at Tiffany’s barbie suddenly interrupted, “There’s a line.”

I felt myself get even more red, looking back at the counter quickly. Being an antisocial misanthrope really put a damper on my interactions with people and moments like these were why I didn’t seek-out any friends. Hannibal went rigid, seeming to be displeased. I glanced up quickly, noting his closed off expression before going to reach for my wallet. 

“They are making it currently. Wait on the other side.” Hannibal stuck his hand out to stop me and motioned down the counter. 

My jaw dropped, dumbfounded, “But I haven’t even-”

“Do not worry.” Hannibal’s face pulled into a tight-lipped smile, yet his posture indicated that the conversation was over.

Shoving a hefty tip into the jar, my fries were given to me shortly, along with a vanilla coke and a box of Junior Mints. I went to voice a protest, but Hannibal shushed from down the counter, winking. I took the items and left gaping and confused as to what just happened. My theory that Alana had something to do with this was still valid and becoming more concrete. Only she could convince someone like Hannibal to be nice to someone like me. 

Perhaps finishing this date with Ma wouldn’t be so bad after all. I wouldn’t have to think about revenge on Beverly or devious friendship plots from Alana or Hannibal Lecter at all. I could just focus on King Mittens of the Kingdom of Cat Scratch for the rest of the night. 

Those plans were unceremoniously shattered as I spotted Ma making out with Mr. Dude-bro frat guy at our table. I was a little offended that she couldn’t have at least waited to finish our date together, but in the end I couldn’t blame her entirely. I was a lousy date. 

There wasn’t a real desire to go interrupt the two so I found a secluded table in the corner of the arcade area. Beverly was my ride and I knew it would be at least an hour before she gave the okay to leave. This outcome was inevitable, I digress, but what seemed like a godsend at the beginning of the night now seemed like a death sentence to my mind. A mind that was entirely set on thinking about Hannibal.

When I thought about it, I wouldn’t exactly mind becoming his friend. He was smart, extremely so, consistently scoring right below my own marks on tests. He was also exceptionally attractive, with fine blonde hair neatly styled with a tall and broad figure that made girls and boys pursue the enigma that he was. His accent only added to his appeal in my opinion. No, I wouldn’t mind being his friend at all. The problem was that I could not fathom that he would ever want to be friends with me. 

I was a freak who liked dogs more than people, who couldn’t hold a conversation with anyone without getting tongue-tied, who liked murder and mystery and the thrill of the chase- no. I was not the kind of person who should even get to talk to Hannibal Lecter. 

The lone chair across from me scrapped across the ground, sounding quiet compared to the noise in the arcade. Looking up with a scowl while taking a drink of coke, I fully intended to tell Beverly just how tonight went and make her feel bad. The face a was greeted with was not the soft contours of my best friend, but rather the much more masculine ones of Hannibal’s. He opened his mouth to say something, but I was so surprised I choked on my coke and spit it out. All over Hannibal.

“Oh my god,” I gasped, trying to recover from choking while trying to apologize as well. I was completely mortified, taking in the shock on Hannibal’s face. He was never even going to consider talking to again after this. I was now the strange boy who spit vanilla coca-cola all over him. 

I was surprised as he began to laugh, unguarded and unrestrained. It was awe inspiring; he was acting in a way that I had never seen with anyone, not even Alana. He stopped and stared at me, eyes twinkling in mirth.“I’m so sorry,” I repeated, my voice more of squeak.

“I suppose I deserve it for startling you.” He grabbed the napkins on the table, using them to wipe his face and the front of his shirt as best he could. “This will be a funny time to remember years down the road, no?”

I blush, sit in shock, then begin to laugh with him. Something told me that we would know each other for a long time, and for once, I thought about thanking Beverly for tonight. Once we settled down, Hannibal’s face got a determined look, his jaw clenching. He forcibly met my eyes, and for once, it wasn’t too uncomfortable.

“Would you like to go with me to the planetarium next weekend? Bowling is nice, but I prefer a more educational setting. There is supposed to be a meteor shower, and I had been meaning to find a way to get to know you better. Please say yes?”

I thought about my reclusive activities. I thought about how horrid it was to go out, how much I hated socialization and people in general, and about how I thought learning about the stars was pointless. Then I thought about Hannibal Lecter, and there was no more debate for the answer: “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> All done Kiddos! I'd be willing to write more in this AU if anyone wanted it, so feel free to share your ideas on what you would want to see next.


End file.
